Moments We Don't See
by Blackmoondragon1415
Summary: An introspective regarding a scene in Fathers, particularly when it comes to a friendship regarding a certain lady-knight and a terrible and fearsome dragon. Oneshot, please r&r.


A/N: I don't own Jane and the Dragon, sadly. Anyone that says I do is a lying liar who lies.

Yeah, this was one separate project I'd had in the back of my mind when I watched Fathers for about the second or third time. Strictly, from the scene in which Jane and Dragon are descending down into his cave to look at his new discovery and Dragon remarks that he would like to have a father to do with the sorts of things Jane does with her father. If you pay attention to Jane's face immediately following, you'll notice she looks a mite bit guilty.

* * *

**Moments We Don't See:**

"It's alright, I'm not upset. After all, they were just things. When you've lost your mother and father, you can't care so much about things, can you?"

~Kazuo Ishiguro

_"Well, we can do that any old time; I think you should help your father."_

_ "I would love to have a father to do things with, even count bags of food. 'Specially count bags of food."_

Despite the fact that they had both gotten out alright from the trap cave in Dragon's mountain, there were still little bits of middling conversation hanging around Jane's head, the words coming back again and again for a minute as her mind internally tried to digest them.

It had seemed odd at the time that Dragon would so readily give up their immediate opportunity to look at the unexplored part of his cave simply because her father had asked for her help for the day. He had barely needed any sort of prompting, asking, or badgering, not that she would have put up much a fight. She did love her father, dearly, but the sheer monotony of the duties he was tasked with daily was enough to bore her to tears. Not to mention that Dragon was exuberant in his efforts to be a part of her life. If he couldn't be a direct part of something, he often spectated, and commented loud enough to shake the castle to its foundations. The fact that he had simply backed down so easily, with barely any fight, was something that was odd, yes, but easily forgotten about when faced with the flood of tasks that she was to chronicle and list and check over until her eyes felt like leaking from her skull in boredom. It was a far-off and forgone concern, something she had simply chalked up to Dragon being Dragon.

It wasn't until much, much later, in the caves, that she realized the nature of his conceding. The realization was one that felt like a stave end to the gut, like that time when Gunther had accidentally hit just a little too hard and knocked the wind out of her for a few minutes [something that was thankfully very short-lived as she had needed to talk Dragon out of taking Gunther to the tallest peak he could find and leaving him there].

Dragon had no parents growing up. He had learned on his own, existed on his own, and had practically been isolated from any others until they had met. He had had no one. He'd told her so himself.

Somehow, her mind had never quite made the logical jump that if he had been orphaned at a very young age, especially if he had never known his parents. Dragon never seemed the sort for sad and sordid things [except in very certain, very select times that Jane felt better not dwelling on too much]. His loud, jubilant, boisterous nature seemed to forbid it. Repel it. Even if he was hurt, he would react in partial anger and volcanic rage. Like with the Merchant and his ill-guided attempt to draw in money with a 'dragon's egg'. Or Sir Theodore and his own secret, hidden and weighing heavily in his blood.

But if she remembered rightly, there were glimpses of moods that Dragon never seemed to stay in for long. Ones that were more on par with what she might have expected of someone that had been alone, felt unloved, or had to deal with the world and its changes on their own. Sadness, loneliness, clear and shattered _hurt_ that was painful to see, especially on someone who was normally so jovial or even proud. Someone who just didn't seem to let things get to them. At least, not in that way.

But then there was the anniversary, which while happy in its end, was also one of the more poignant moments that she could remember. When Dragon had spoken with downright longing and almost emptiness as he spoke of home, in both the concept and what it meant to him.

_"If you were ever taken from the castle, would you ever stop trying to find your way back?"_

The question was just as piercing as she remembered, both because the answer she had was not a favorable one, and because now it seemed to reveal something that Jane was close to kicking herself for not noticing before. If she had been taken from the castle, especially at a young age, she would want to go back, not just for the joy of joying home, but because of what might be waiting there. For her, if she were taken from the castle and found her way back, she would want to know more about that past she was torn from. Maybe why. Though if she, like Dragon, had gone a great deal of her life on her own with not one person from her past to tell her a bit about how she came to be this way, she would want to find out that as well. And what easier and better place to look than in the place where one originated?

In that sense, Dragon was not very different from most orphans, even if internally she gave a small grin at his possible indignation for being compared to a short life. Who am I? Where did I come from? Why am I alone while everyone else has what I do not?

It had also explained something else, even if she had only really processed it in the back of her mind. When they had speculated on how the runes had come to be carved in the cave, following the castle's three-hundred-year anniversary, Jane had absently remarked that it might very well have been a family member of Dragon's that had left them there for him. And though it had seemed innocently hopeful at the time, now slightly more bittersweet, Dragon had practically pounced on the bit of speculation like a hungry dog leaps on a juicy steak.

And not long after, there was this. It almost made her feel bad for being so slow to appreciate her father. Love him, there was no question, but it did not seem as though there was much use to his constant use of numbers and tallies. Until he had used them to track them down, get her out of the pitfall trap, and then rescue Dragon from his own predicament. They had been given there own brand of power, a strange sort of strength to them that insofar only the wizard had managed to invoke.

But no other point had drove it home like that rather casual remark concerning fathers, one Dragon had made almost innocently when she had griped about working through the castle stores with her father. Parents were something he would cherish, even with their faults, due to the fact that he had gone through most of his life without them.

Briefly she found herself wondering if Dragon had ever had times like she had had when she was a child, when she had perhaps fallen, had her feelings hurt, or felt as though there were nothing in the world that could make her feel better. She had had her mother and father there to help her and dry her tears, to make her feel better and lift her over the hurts, or teach her how to cope with and outrun them when she grew older. What did one with none do during times like those?

Survive, she supposed, trying for a more clinical answer and failing as she thought of her best friend, young, unknowing, and _alone_, trying to make his way in the world by just himself.

Still, something in her mind argued at the image, a voice filled with pride for her companion and the sort of protective love and faith that one extended to family and the closest friends, filled with fire and steel. Dragon had survived this long, he was strong and certainly not as weak or empty as her dark thoughts were painting him to be. She had hated his overly-concerned coddling; it would be downright hypocritical to do the same to him.

But he was her _friend_, and sure as she still breathed, she would have his back, as he would have hers. And if he needed to know that he was cared for, then surely he knew where he could find it.

* * *

Also, though part of me feels this shouldn't need to be said, love can have plenty of meanings and plenty of applications. From lovers to family to friends to the world around us, everything has its own sort of love. When looking at things now, it makes me feel a bit, well, not upset, but put out to see it used strictly in terms of romantic ideals, like people are almost afraid to use it any other way. When you are afraid for a family member if they are going through a rough patch or god forbid, seriously injured or ill, that fear comes from the love you have for them and because you care for them so strongly.

Course, you guys can ignore this if you want. After all, it's only an opinion.


End file.
